


Sugar Honey Iced Tea

by Mysenia



Series: Steter Network Monthly Prompts [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Angst, Child Abuse, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Guide Peter Hale, M/M, Post Hale Fire, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Sentinel Stiles Stilinski, Sentinel/Guide, Sentinel/Guide Bonding, Stiles Stilinski Has ADHD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-16 17:20:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12347151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysenia/pseuds/Mysenia
Summary: Stiles doesn't want a Guide who's more focused on vengeance than helping him, and Peter doesn't want a Sentinel who's years younger than him and can barely go outside without zoning. Too bad the Universe doesn't give a shit what they want.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> For [the Steter Network's monthly prompt for September: **Water**](http://steternetwork.tumblr.com/post/164867248155/steter-monthly-prompts-masterpost)
> 
> I will be updating this every Wednesday, and will be updating the tags as needed.

Following his dad into the hospital room, Stiles had to take a moment to swallow and squeeze his eyes closed. He took a deep breath and let it out, opening his eyes to see his dad taking hold of one of his mom’s hands.

Stiles didn’t want to be there. His chest had started hurting on the way over and he felt sick to his stomach. He knew it was not going to be a good visit, could feel it in his gut, and had tried to convince his dad to let him stay home. It hadn’t worked, and now he was in the door of his mom’s hospital room, looking on as his dad greeted her with a kiss. 

He hated the sight of his mom lying there on the hospital bed, still and green looking. Her breathing rattled in her chest and there were so many wires hooked up to her. She looked like a weird reality-game genetically modified zombie.

Stiles had nightmares about her coming alive to eat him. They scared him the most because she _was_ alive, but the nightmares told him she wasn’t. Seeing her on the hospital bed, it was hard to convince himself that his nightmares weren’t real.

With a shudder, Stiles forced himself to make his way over to the bed, grabbing his mom’s other hand tightly. Her grip was strong and that was comforting, even if her hand felt more papery than the day before. 

“How’s my boy?”

_DRIP_

Stiles shook his head and smiled as best he could, telling her about his day at school. “I met a new boy named Jackson, he just moved here from England. He has an accent and we played lizards during recess.” It had been nice, meeting Jackson. It had managed to make him forget that his mom was sick.

_DRIP_

Stiles looked around, trying to locate the noise that was bothering him but his mom’s voice quickly brought him back. She was smiling at him but it wasn’t her smile from _before_. This was her new smile, the one that told him the mean thoughts were coming back. Dad usually made him go sit with the nurses when the new smile came out.

_DRIP_

“Look at me, _boy_ , when I’m talking to you.”

Stiles’ eyes whipped up to look at his mother, not having realised that his eyes had drifted down. The sound was pulling his attention and that was dangerous when it was mother in the room with him.

Mom had warm smiles and comforting hugs; Mother had nasty smiles and mean words.

_DRIP_

Stiles gasped as pain lanced through his hand. He looked down at his hand to see that his mother’s nail had pierced his skin, bright crescent moons of red forming around her nails. Stiles pulled his hand away and tried very hard not to let mother know how much it hurt - she liked his pain.

_DRIP_

“I said LOOK AT ME!”

Stiles stumbled back at the words, knowing a hit was coming soon if he didn’t get himself away quickly. Sure enough, his mother’s hand came swinging towards him before dad could prevent it, only barely missing Stiles’ face.

He took a few more steps back, tripping over his feet and falling to the ground. Heart racing, Stiles barely noticed the pain in his right elbow as it impacted with the floor because the dripping captured his attention on the way down.

_DRIP_

It was so loud, the sound of that drip. Stiles thought it might be water but the thought was too hard to grasp. The sound of the drop exploding pulled him in, pounding through his ears and drowning out everything else. 

Each staccato reverberating through his body, locking him in it’s grip. His heart slowed down, waiting to beat in time with the _drip drip drip_ that became the focus of his entire being.

Stiles became blind to everything else, his world narrowing down until nothing penetrated the darkness. His very soul seemed captured in the sound, breaking apart each time the water broke and coming together again on the next _drip_.

Everything was a blur to him, his mind captured on that water drip even long after it stopped. He kept waiting to hear it again, to breath with that steady _drip_ that was lost to him.

For a long time all Stiles knew was darkness. His ears kept straining, echoing from a sound that was no longer present. He felt dizzy with the absence, unmoored in an inexplicable way. Stiles knew he was lost and there was no finding home.

Except, he wasn’t lost. There was a sound, so deep in his being it felt like it was buried in the marrow of his bones. He spread his senses out, the very essence of himself spreading thin in the hopes of capturing it. The sound surged up when he touched upon it, bouncing from ear to ear, ricocheting until it gradually settled as one not that sunk deep into his soul. 

It was like a siren song calling him home and Stiles was defenseless to it. There was no fear, only a certainty that he was being lead home.

The first gasping breath of awareness sent lances of pain down his throat, forcing Stiles to cough and cough, eyes welling up. He couldn’t seem to stop, curling up as best he could, trying to escape the pain. Each new movement only brought more pain, however, and Stiles instinctively reached out to that sense of home.

The familiar presence seemed farther away and Stiles panicked, shoving his senses outwards in a blind panic. He couldn’t have lost his beacon, his anchor, the sense of self that was foreign and yet Stiles was intimately familiar with.

“-iles!”

Stiles shook his head, trying to flick the annoyance away. He couldn’t be distracted from his goal.

“-iles!”

Stiles groaned, feeling his body shake. Searing points of contact burned on his arms and he tried to shy away from the touch.

“Stiles! Come on, buddy, come back to me.”

Stiles latched onto the voice. He knew it, would always know that voice, but couldn’t place it.

“Just open your eyes.”

As if under a spell, Stiles’ eyes popped open and he found himself looking into the worried eyes of his dad. He squinted, the sudden light after so much darkness seeming almost unbearable. Blinking, he tried to focus on his dad and not all the other sights, sounds, and smells that kept trying to distract him.

“Dad?” He croaked, swallowing dryly and coughing some more. His throat felt like sandpaper when he breathed.

“Oh, Stiles,” his dad cried out, gently pulling Stiles in for a hug. “Yeah, it’s me, buddy. Gave me quite the scare.”

“What?” 

His dad pulled back and gave him a hesitant look. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Stiles opened his mouth to respond but paused. The last thing he remembered was being pulled through darkness towards his home. Looking around though, Stiles knew that couldn’t be right. He was--

“Am I in the hospital?”

“Yeah, son, you are.”

Stiles frowned, snippets of memories coming to him. “Were we--we were visiting mom, right?”

His dad nodded. “Do you remember what happened during the visit?”

Nodding slowly, Stiles looked away from his dad not wanting him to see that tears were pooling in Stiles’ eyes. He remembered mother and her nastiness. He remembered pulling away just in time but falling. It was the landing that he could not quite puzzle out.

“Mother, she--I fell. But, what happened? How did I end up in this room?”

“Oh, buddy,” his dad said, hugging him again. “you zoned.”

Stiles scrunched up his nose, trying to make sense of what his dad was saying. “I-I zoned? But I’m not a Sentinel.”

He couldn’t be. He was too young. He was learning in school about Sentinel’s and Guide’s, and all his teachers were clear that people didn’t find out their orientation until their teenage years. Stiles was only nine. 

His dad didn’t say anything, instead carding his fingers through Stiles’ hair. There was something soothing about the motion and Stiles leaned into it, though he had the oddest thought that they weren’t the right fingers.

“How did it happen?” Stiles asked eventually, after the silence became unbearable.

His dad sighed. “The doctors think the fall, along with the scare, triggered your Sentinel side.”

“And the drip,” Stiles said, nodding along. He did not want to believe it but his dad had never lied to him, even about the scary or painful things. Stiles had to believe he was telling the truth about this too.

“The drip?”

Stiles looked up at his dad. “What?”

“Are you feeling okay, son?” His dad asked, concern clear in his voice.

“I hurt all over.”

His dad pushed to his feet after planting a kiss on the top of Stiles’ head. “You hang tight, buddy, okay? I’m just going to go fetch a nurse.”

Stiles didn’t want his dad to leave but he didn’t say anything as his attention was drawn outside of himself. It felt like his body was being pulled out his room, pulled out of the hospital. Stiles wanted to follow it, wanted to set everything to rights again. He felt like he was being pulled in two and found himself sliding off his hospital bed.

He had taken only three steps by the time his dad and the nurse came into the room but Stiles neither saw nor heard them. His attention was completely focused elsewhere and nothing they did could bring him back.


	2. 7 Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments in the first chapter! I'm sorry I haven't responded to them yet but I will do my utmost best to get to them later today. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Updating every Wednesday

“Stiles, I’m going to work now,” his dad said as he slowly came down the basement stairs. “Do you need anything before I go?”

The basement had not always been where Stiles lived but, ever since _that_ night, it was the only space in the house where he could exist without constantly falling into a zone. That night being the night that started it all, when he came online way too early.

There was a reason most people did not come online until after puberty. There was a need for control, a need to have more life experience than just one or two handful of years, to be able to control one's second nature. 

Even then, small zones here and there were expected as the new Sentinels were guided in meditation and Sense Control. 

Coming online before puberty could mean any number of things for a Sentinel, from zones to comas. For Stiles, whose 5 senses were active and strong - a level 5 Sentinel - it meant near constant zones unless he was in his heavily controlled environment. 

When he had first come online the doctors had tried medication and even institutionalizing Stiles but it had not gone well, for him or his dad. His dad had put in many hours of research to find a way to keep Stiles safe and at home, away from doctors that wanted to also analyse Stiles’ case to find out why he’d come online so young, and that meant living in the basement.

A Sentinel stuck in a basement-shaped bubble.

At one time Stiles had wished that he’d been born a Guide, or even without any second nature like his dad. Guide powers meant the ability to soothe people, most especially if that person was the Guide’s own Sentinel. The strongest Guides were even said to be able to influence the emotions of crowds of people, to calm them down--Stiles had never seen it so he had a hard time grasping powers that vast but he believed it to be true.

The difference was that Guides had control over their senses, and Sentinels were victims to theirs. 

Stiles wished every day that he had control over his senses.

For Sentinels, their ability to literally get sucked into a sense, be it any of the fives senses, could mean death. To zone meant that one sense became the sole focus of the Sentinel to the exclusion of all else. There were horror stories of Sentinels zoning while driving and getting into horrible accidents, or zoning while swimming and drowning; really, zoning anytime where a fatality could be had.

“Stiles?”

Shaking his head, Stiles looked at his dad. It hurt him to see the anxious concern etched into every line of his dad’s face. The man did the best he could but there was only so much one person could do when faced with an early developing Sentinel with no Guide to anchor them. That Stiles also had crippling flashbacks from his mother’s time stuck in the hospital, meant that the Sheriff really was strapped for how he could help his son.

His dad was on Stiles-duty every hour he was not working, and Stiles hated himself for being that kind of burden to the man who’d given him everything.

“Yeah, I’m fine, dad. I don’t need anything.”

His dad seemed to hesitate on the bottom step. “Can I hug you?”

Stiles smiled. “Yeah, dad, yes. Come here.”

Relief seemed to shine in his dad’s eyes and Stiles tried not to let it hurt. Early on they had learned that Stiles struggled with touch the most, followed closely by sound, and his dad had made a habit of asking Stiles for permission anytime physical contact was a possibility.

Stepping up to his dad, Stiles sank into the embrace. While he struggled with touch, when he could hug his dad it always seemed to restore Stiles’ spirits. His dad smelled like cinnamon and gunpowder and by focusing his attention equally on touch and smell, Stiles was able to lessen the chance of falling into a zone.

“I love you,” he whispered into his dad’s neck, smiling as the weight of his last zone sloughed off his shoulders. 

Since Stiles had no Guide to anchor him or to pull him out of a zone when he fell into one, coming out of zones was a long and exhausting process. There was no soothing voice or calming touch to pull him out, just the crude but effective system that he and his dad had come up with of countering one sense with another.

“Oh, Stiles, I love you too.” His dad said as he hugged Stiles tighter. 

Feeling the itch of a zone pulling at him, Stiles dropped his arms and stepped back from his dad. His mind was swirling too much to concentrate and that was always dangerous for him. 

With a nod, his dad turned around and headed back up the stairs, leaving Stiles in his dungeon. Not that his dad would be very amused if he heard Stiles calling the basement a dungeon, as Stiles was technically free to roam wherever he chose. It was more of a self-imposed imprisonment because Stiles’ second nature could not handle such an uncontrolled environment as was presented to him on the main floor of the house.

With a start, Stiles realised he was already falling back into the zone that he had felt moments prior with his dad. It was only as he realised what was going on that he also noticed the pins and needles sensation in his hands and feet. With a frustrated sigh, Stiles took a few deep breaths and shook out his limbs.

“Fuck!”

This was why he needed a Guide. Even his best wasn’t good enough. 

Stiles walked over to his laptop and powered it on, his browser automatically popping up to the last page he’d been viewing - Unbonded Sentinels and their role in society. It had been a stupid article detailing the uselessness of those unbonded Sentinels who had two or more active senses, like Stiles who had all five senses active, who seemed to only be draining the resources that could be better used elsewhere.

The argument was longstanding and Stiles knew there would always be those kinds of people who viewed him, and those like him, as things to be dealt with rather than people who needed help. It was a disgusting view but Stiles would rather know his adversaries then be left in the dark.

Closing the tab, Stiles went to the next one that was his reason for being on the laptop. As an unbonded Sentinel, Stiles had resources available to him to help him find a Guide. This one was a website that served as a platform to connect unbonded Sentinels to unbonded Guides. Some people likened the site to a dating website but that was highly inaccurate. 

While it was most common for a bonded Sentinel/Guide pair to also be romantically, and sometimes sexually, involved, that wasn’t always the case. There even seemed to be a growing number of bonded pairs that turned out to be best friends rather than anything else. Stiles, for one, was relieved with that growing trend as he found there was already enough pressure with just finding a Guide, let alone trying to woo one--especially while he was always one step away from a zone.

There was nothing so romantic as your partner suddenly stopping whatever it was they were doing and becoming creepy real life statues that wouldn’t respond to outside stimuli. 

For Stiles, a 16 year old who was always two seconds away from zoning and was housebound, his biggest goal was to find a Guide to stabilize him. He didn’t care for romance - his last crush having been Lydia Martin back in fourth grade - and really just wanted to be able to finish school and be able to sit on a beach without having to be hospitalized. 

A ping on his computer had him focusing again on the screen. He had a new message from a SourWolf.

_SourWolf: Your profile says you’re 18 but you don’t look a day over 15._

Moletiply: Well hello to you too

_SourWolf: Are you 18?_

Moletiply: Why are you so fixated on my age? 

_SourWolf: ………_

Moletiply: Omg, fuck you’re weird. Yes, I’m 18, had to go through the entire damn process, just like you, didn’t I?

_SourWolf: Okay, good. Looking at your profile, it says you’re not interested in a sexual or romantic relationship. Is that true?_

Moletiply: Holy fuck, dude. Did no one ever teach you how to hold a proper conversation? Interrogating me like a perp isn’t the way to go. You’re like a fucking caveman.

_SourWolf: Look, I’m not here for myself. My uncle recently came out of a coma and his Guide powers are unstable. He needs a Sentinel to help him get back on his feet, one that won’t expect much from him other than to bond. You seem to fit that description._

Moletiply: Yeah, okay, likely story. P A S S

_SourWolf: Wait! Please, I’m sorry, I wouldn’t be contacting you if it wasn’t desperate._

Moletiply: Ouch

_SourWolf: If I’m reading things right, you’re desperate too_

Moletiply: So what if I am? Beggars can’t be choosers but I can certainly pick someone a lot nicer than you

_SourWolf: Like I said, this isn’t for me, it’s for my uncle._

Moletiply: And he can’t contact me himself because?

_SourWolf: He just came out of a coma, his fine motor skills aren’t up to the task of typing away on a computer._

Moletiply: And he’s okay with you badgering strangers on his behalf?

_SourWolf: He’s given me his blessing._

Moletiply. O k a y, say I believe you, what do you want from me?

_SourWolf: Just for you to meet him once, and if you don’t click then that’s that and you never see each other again._

Moletiply: If I agree, I’m going to need not only your uncle’s information but all of yours as well

_SourWolf: Fair enough._

Stiles sighed. There wasn’t much choice in the end, for him. The last seven years of his life he’d been stuck in the basement, unable to enjoy most things. When he went outside, he had to wear heavily tinted glasses, ear plugs, and be covered from head to toe. Stiles was done living that way.

Though he was technically was not too young to bond, most people waited until they were 18 to try. Most people did not want to risk the chance of bonding too young and then finding out years later that it wasn’t the right choice as bonding was a permanent thing.

Stiles had read that Sentinels would just know their chosen Guide, that all of their senses would react positively to that one person - which made not a lick of sense to Stiles - and that was it for the Sentinel. Guides, apparently, had a way of discerning their Sentinel as well but beyond a few vague sentences, Stiles had not been able to find out what that process was.

He made his decision, though there really wasn’t much of one, and went back to the chat.

Moletiply: So, are we doing this then?

_SourWolf: You’re agreeing?_

Moletiply: Like you said, I’m desperate.

_SourWolf: I guess, well, there’s one other thing I should mention before you agree._

Moletiply: Is this where you tell me you’re a serial killer and you’re right behind me?

_SourWolf: Funny, and no. This is where I tell you that my uncle is a werewolf, so am I._

Moletiply: Yeah, dude, I kind of figured you were, going by your username. But okay, cool

_SourWolf: You still agree?_

Moletiply: God, if you keep asking then I’m going to say no and stop even considering this lunacy

__ _SourWolf: No, no need, I get it. Okay, good. Thank you._

Moletiply: This doesn’t work I walk away afterward?

_SourWolf: Yes, you have my guarantee._

Moletiply: Considering you’re a complete stranger, your guarantee counts for shit. Send me your info and once I’ve cleared it, I’ll message you back

_SourWolf: You’re a cop?_

Moletiply: I’ve got my connections

_SourWolf: Alright, I guess. My name’s Derek Hale, my uncle’s name is Peter Hale. We both live in Beacon Hills, California. Contact me here once you’ve got an answer for me._

Stiles sat back in his chair, eyes wide. He knew who the Hale’s were. Their entire pack had been killed in a fire seven years ago, the same night that Stiles had his first zone. That night had changed the lives of two families forever, in two separate ways, and now suddenly Stiles was in contact with one of the Hales. 

If the website didn’t match Sentinels and Guides based on proximity, Stiles would think it was a freaky sort of coincidence. As it was, he could feel memories of that night seven years ago tugging at his mind so he forced himself to prick his finger on a pin to focus on something else. The sting was effective and Stiles forced himself to focus on the computer again.

Moletiply: Yeah, okay. Be talking to you

Stiles knew of the Hales, of course, everyone in Beacon Hills did. What he did not know was whether or not Peter Hale was, in fact, a Guide. 

There were local directories that he could check but that would require going to city hall and requesting access. He could also search the police database but Stiles knew he wouldn’t be able to focus enough in the moment to not alert his dad to his activities.

Instead, Stiles did what he did best, when he was able, and opened a new tab. He had some research to do. Specifically, research on Peter Hale and any clues about his second nature, and, if it came down to it, looking into the Hale fire.

While Stiles avoided thoughts of his first zone as best he could he felt he would be reasonably safe researching the Hale fire. After all the only thing he had in common with it was the date. He would, however, leave that search until after he had exhausted all other possible avenues.

If his searching bore fruit, then Stiles knew he would have to confess to his dad what he’d been doing, but he pushed that worry to the back of his head. With a glance at his desk to make sure his panic button was near, the one that was directly connected to his dad’s cell phone and would alert the man should Stiles manage to press it, Stiles typed in his first search.


	3. Hyperfocusing is a real problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so a lot has happened since I updated this story last week! If you want to catch the details, you can read about what's going on in my life on [my Tumblr](http://mysenia.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Stiles has an extremely unhealthy self-image and is very self-deprecating. His thoughts regarding himself are harmful. He also has symptoms of depression.

Falling into a haze was something that Stiles was intimately familiar with. Be it researching or cleaning, he found it easy to focus on his task to the exclusion of all else. The doctors had hypothesized that Stiles’ ability to completely ignore his body in favour of the task he was completing was a combination of his secondary nature and his ADHD.

Stiles, personally, felt like it was just a defect in his brain that caused him to have all the special boy problems.

Researching Peter Hale had yielded a lot more results than Stiles had been expecting. There were the expected results that expressed joy over a prominent member of society coming out of a coma. The Hale fire had struck a chord with the community as the family had, back in the day, had their fingers in many pies.

Everyone had known who the Hales were, there had been many of them - which, looking back, made sense considering they were a pack of werewolves - and thus it had really been a shock when they house had been burned down. While the fire had been labeled arson, no one had ever been arrested in connection with the fire though many people had been questioned and the list of suspects had not been empty. 

Still, Stiles would have thought that after six years, the hype surrounding the Hales, and more specifically Peter Hale, would have died down. However, maybe the fact that Peter was one of the only surviving members really stirred the media and kept Peter Hale a household name.

Whatever the case, Stiles was grateful to it. It meant that snooping for information was made that much easier because he was not the only one that was looking.

While news stories were most prominently talking about the Hale fire, which Stiles avoided, there were still a number of stories that focused more on other things - such as the Hales being werewolves. Though that kind of news wasn’t, well, _news_ to Stiles, it was fascinating to read nonetheless.

The theory that the Hales had been targeted for being werewolves had long since been accepted by the general populace as fact. A lot of horrible things happened to those members of the public that decided to come forward and pronounce to the world that there were such things as Werewolves and that they were not just the things of myth and fantasy. It had been a scary time for everyone because the human hive-mind was to attack anything _different_ \- that it wasn’t easy to identify who was and was not a werewolf only added to the paranoia.

For all the articles that Stiles found, only two spoke to Peter Hale’s secondary nature. The one article was dated a week after the Hale fire, wondering if the reason Peter had survived was because he had some blessed bond with his Sentinel that was as yet unknown to the world - both in terms of the vast power the Guide must have possessed to have such an extremely strong bond and in the identity of said Sentinel.

It was a load of crock as no bond between a Guide and their Sentinel could keep one pair alive through something that would kill them just because of some mystic super magical bond. Peter Hale being a werewolf explained his surviving the fire, along with a huge dose of luck. 

The second article was a more recent article, dated three weeks ago. This article detailed Peter waking from his coma and the circumstances surrounding it. It was not exactly rare for people to wake up from comas, even less rare for a werewolf as their healing ability kicked it, but the longer a patient stayed in a coma the less likely it was that they would wake up. Even in Peter Hale’s case, there was only such much damage that werewolf healing could heal.

The werewolf had been written off as a lost case years ago, by everyone but his pack Stiles surmised as Stiles knew that Peter’s nieces and nephew had never left his side. Though there had been much speculation when the fire happened and whispers of the Hales being placed into protective custody - Stiles’ dad being a deputy at the time had meant overhearing a lot more information than the general public would have heard - and yet Laura Hale, along with her younger brother Derek and younger sister Cora had stayed.

If Stiles had been able to stay in school he would have gone to school with Cora Hale. The Stilinski’s had only just moved to Beacon Hill’s a year before Claudia ended up in the hospital and Stiles became a living space cadet. While he had known _of_ Cora Hale, they had not been in the same class and thus he had never had a chance to meet her.

Now he was looking up her uncle so that he could decide if the Guide would be a potential good match. 

Stiles idly wondered if any of the other surviving Hales were Guides but then pushed that thought to the side. There was a reason the thought of Peter Hale was appealing. Though the werewolf was 9 years older than Stiles, Peter had just come out of a coma. There was no way Peter was going to be having his pick of Sentinel’s; no line of eligible people lining up outside the Guide’s door just waiting for him to give them the time of day.

Stiles would feel bad for thinking that except Derek Hale seeking Stiles out through a website on behalf of his uncle was a neon sign pointing to a desperate Guide. As a desperate Sentinel, Stiles was going to take all the handouts he could get and hope that he and Peter had a connection when they met.

For Stiles was planning to meet Peter Hale. It was going to require admitting to his dad that he had been secretly shopping around for a Guide like some kind of farmer looking over livestock. He could well imagine the look of disappoint on his dad’s face but Stiles was sick of being dependant on his dad and his imprisonment to keep him on the straight and narrow.

At least he could point out to his dad that Peter must have been just as desperate as him and that surely two fools were meant for each other. It was the classic reverse fairytale and Stiles was going to work that angle hard. Nothing like a little morose gaiety to really get a conversation rolling.

“Stiles?”

Stiles flailed, kicking his desk and twitching his arms hard enough to send his laptop skittering off the desk. Pain flared up from his toes and immediately all Stiles could focus on was the throbbing ache. Every beat of his heart sent more pain throughout his toes as blood rushed to the battered limb. His toes seemed to grow and shrink with each breath his took. 

Stiles was no longer seeing through his eyes. His entire being was focused inward, as if he’d been sucked into a vacuum and all that existed was the whooshing of the blood through his veins and the throbbing of the pain in his toes. He was no longer hearing the rush of blood through his ears but rather feeling it course through his body like a hive of bees.

The blare of an air horn zapped through Stiles’ ears and jolted him out of his zone. He gasped, sucking in much needed air as feeling zinged it’s way through his body. His toe, which had been throbbing like a wasp sting mere moments ago, was now nothing but a faint throb. His shoulders ached from tensing so quickly and his back cracked as he stretched out his spine.

Blinking rapidly, Stiles tried to bring the room back into focus. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust and for the black spots to fade. Other than his laptop currently on the ground, nothing looked different.

Movement to his right had Stiles’ head whipping around and he spotted his dad standing beside him, air horn in hand.

“You all right there, kiddo?” his dad asked, wary concern colouring his voice.

“Y-yeah.”

“Mind telling me what happened?”

Stiles’ eyes darted to his fallen laptop guiltily before focusing again on his dad. “Researching.”

With a sigh, his dad placed the air horn on the desk and leaned against it. He gave Stiles his best Sheriff face.

“I thought we talked about this, Stiles. No researching unless I’m home to stop you zoning.”

“But I only zoned when you startled me!” Stiles tried to defend but knew he wasn’t going to gain any ground. There was a reason for the rules that Stiles had with his dad.

“No, Stiles. You’ve likely been on the cusp of a zone since you sat down. You hyperfocus and lose track of your senses. Then, when any outside stimuli distracts you, you zone.”

God, Stiles hated that his dad was right. He hated how predictable his patterns had come that his dad knew the signs even when he was only seeing the outcome.

“So,” his dad spoke up when Stiles didn’t reply. “what were you researching this time?”

The easy acceptance of Stiles after the chastisement was only a slight balm on the combination of guilt and irritation that Stiles was feeling.

“A way to fix this problem.” Stiles replied mulishly. 

His dad gave him a confused look. “What is ‘ _this problem_ ’?”

“This!” Stiles said, gesturing at himself. “My inability to do literally anything without fucking zoning! This problem that is the fucked up combination of Sentinel and ADHD driven thing that exists before you!”

His dad frowned. “Stiles, you are not, and never have been, a problem.”

“Of course you would say that, like you don’t hate this every bit as much as I do! No parent would willingly pick me for their child!” Stiles gasped out, breathing heavily and on the verge of tears. He hated what coming online had done to him.

“Stiles, no.” His dad stepped towards him, face completely devastated. “I choose you. I always have and always will. Every day I wake up and I choose you, because I love you but also because I _want_ to. I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

“Not even to have mom back?”

“No.”

Stiles laughed wetly. “Sure you don’t want to think about that one a little longer?”

His dad stepped forward and gently clasped Stiles’ biceps. “Absolutely. I got to love your mother for as long as I was blessed enough to have her in my life. I want to have the same privilege with you.”

Stiles collapsed against his dad, the tears he’d been trying valiantly to hold back finally flowing over, as his dad’s arms wrapped around him.He hated himself but his dad made it a little bearable to breathe.

They stood there in each other’s arms, just existing in the moment. They had few enough of such moments that Stiles new neither of them were willing to break the moment.

Still holding Stiles close, the Sheriff asked. “So, are you going to tell me what you were researching?”

“Peter Hale.”

“Uh huh, and are you going to tell me why you were researching Peter Hale?”

Stiles pulled back to look at his dad. “You know that he woke up from his coma?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s a Guide.”

“Stiles,” his dad said, giving him a reproachful look. “you cannot stalk Peter Hale just because he’s a Guide.”

“No, Dad, that’s not what I’m doing. I was researching Peter because I was contacted by his nephew. Now that Peter’s woken up from the coma, his Guide powers are all wonky and he needs a Sentinel to stabilize them.”

His dad hummed. “And you need a Guide.”

Stiles smiled. “Exactly!”

“And how, exactly, would you know that Peter Hale is looking for a Sentinel?”

Stiles grimaced but tried to cover it up. Judging by the look his dad sent him, he wasn’t successful.

“So, uh, for the last few months I’ve been on Bonded for Life socializing.”

His dad gave him an unimpressed look. “And by socializing you mean stalking Guides?”

“Kind of?” Stiles shrugged his shoulders.

“So, let me get this straight. You signed yourself up for a website that specifically matches Sentinels and Guides together and have been chatting up Guides for months, all behind my back?”

Stiles nodded.

“I see. And his nephew, Derek I presume, contacted you on Peter’s behalf so you two could, what, meet up?”

Another nod.

“And you were going to tell me this, when?”

“Today! Honest! Derek only contacted me earlier today.”

“Nice try, bucko. I think you’re only even telling me now because I caught you in a zone.”

Stiles did not even bother to defend himself anymore since it was true. “Well, whatever, you know now.”

His dad crossed his arms over his chest. “So, when’s the meet up planned for?”

Stiles gaped at his dad. “You’re not going to try to stop me?”

“No, I know how much stabilizing means to you and that means bonding with a Guide. The only way you can bond with a Guide is to meet with them. And while I still think you’re a bit young, you’re over the age, if only barely, where you can legally bond with a Guide. So, why don’t we get this meet up planned?”

At that moment Stiles’ stomach gurgled. With that sound it was like every bodily function that Stiles had been ignoring throughout the day made it’s presence known. He suddenly had to pee and felt equals parts starved and parched.

“Okay, change of plans.” His dad said. “Let’s take care of your physical needs first and then we can work on your mental and spiritual ones.”

Stiles nodded. “Good idea.”

With a final pat to his arms, his dad let go and slowly climbed the stairs to, presumably, grab some food, while Stiles went to relieve himself in the bathroom. 

At least with his dad on his side that was one hurdle conquered. Only time would tell how many more they would encounter.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think.
> 
> ~ M


End file.
